


Five Times Bitty Thought "This is my Favourite Part of Sailing", And One Time it Actually Was

by irregardlxss



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Alternate Universe - Tall Ship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irregardlxss/pseuds/irregardlxss
Summary: Bitty is a cook on theSamwell, a Tall-Ship summer camp for kids 13-25, and he loves it. The crew are amazing, the trainees feel like family, and the wildlife is breathtaking.Still, it kinda sucks he's falling for his Captain.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jazsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazsy/gifts).



> I'm sorry this is so late! This AU is based on personal experience - I've crewed for a summer camp like this before! Trips last around 10 days, and kids sleep on the boat itself. You travel to amazing places, and it's true - you get closer to those people than people you've known for years. There are a lot of weird words surrounding sailing, and I think most of the ones I've included in here are pretty widely known, but google should be able to tell you if you're ever unsure!
> 
> Their positions:  
> Bitty - the Cook (I picked this for obvious reasons, but also because the cook is easily the most badass person on the boat, at any given time.)  
> Jack - the Captain  
> Lardo - the First Mate  
> Holster - Watch Officer (is in charge of a group of kids, otherwise just watches over the boat)  
> Ransom - Bosun/ First Aid Officer (In charge of actually physically taking care of the boat)  
> Chowder - Cook's Assistant  
> Dex - Bosun's Mate  
> Nursey - Watch Leader (second in command of the watch officer's group of kids, usually sleeps in the same room as the 'trainees,' responsible for goofing around with them)

Looking around at the small, dimly lit Hold, layered in teenagers who were already beginning to love each other, Bitty had never been happier. It always got him on the _Georgia_ \- even after just two days, people on a boat were comfortable enough to drape themselves over each other - to sing loudly and freely and grin across the belly of a boat that should have been full of near strangers. There was something about waves and wind and sleeping with twenty other people in a room the side of your bedroom that made people friends. Bitty was so, so glad that he hadn’t left that behind when he decided to transfer to _Samwell_. 

Mug Up - cramming into the Hold to sing sea shanties and the few songs that had made it out of the eighties - had always been his favourite part of the day. Everyone got to forget about the business of sailing a boat, and just hang out. Plus, the brownies Chowder was just finishing up for him were already smelling amazing. Today was a good day.

Bitty perches on top of a counter, touching thighs with Holster, the Bosun, in order to occupy the one square foot of free space left in the room, and takes a moment to just soak it all in. The hold doubled as the boy’s sleeping area, and people were already getting up the confidence to sit on the bunks that lined the walls, three or four to a bunk. The trainee who had trounced everyone in the tag game they played earlier was draped across three others, clapping along to the music. Farmer, he thought her name was? Chowder was looking at her more than he was looking at the brownies he was cutting. Tango, the trainee who has spent a solid hour asking Bitty questions while he and Chowder were trying to prepare dinner was singing with as much gusto as Bitty had ever seen. Nursey, one of their volunteer watch leaders, was teaching three trainees the actions to the song and laughing, and Dex, the volunteer Bosun’s mate, was sitting across from him, cheeks blazing. Bitty can’t tell if the hot room or Nursey’s grin was causing it.

What really catches Bitty’s attention, though, is his new Captain, who had finally satisfied himself that the ship was anchored safely, and had pulled out a guitar, seemingly from nowhere. Captain Zimmermann - Jack - was plucking chords and belting out the chorus, and it’s the first time Bitty’s seen him looking truly happy. 

He’s not just happy, he’s alight and alive - blue eyes sparkling and head bobbing madly to the music. He has the sleeves of his flannel shoved up, and muscle ripples with each strum. His voice cuts through even the noise made by a room of enthusiastic trainees, loud and clear and joyful, and Bitty can’t stop watching.

Jack looks up, scanning the room before his eyes meet Bitty’s. He grins, cheeks lifting to meet sharp cheekbones and black lashes framing content eyes and wide lips parting to show white teeth and - 

And. And fuck. Bitty is falling in love with his captain.

_

 

Bitty sits up in bed, yawning. It’s 5:30am, which means it’s time to re-light the stove and start getting breakfast ready, which he hates. He doesn’t hate the breakfast part, but he sure as hell hates the 5:30am part, and it’s hard to avoid mixing the two in his head.

That night had been their first night run, so the ship vibrates comfortingly as he makes his way to the Galley and fumbles for his matches, trying not to wake Dex or Ransom up while walking by their beds. He fills his biggest pot with water and sets it on the stove, clamping it to the rail, after a moment’s thought. Better not have a rogue wave dumping boiling water all over him and the floor, and even if it feels calm right now, they’re wending through islands, so their shelter could be gone at any moment. 

After getting a few packs of frozen berries out of the freezer to thaw and adding a kettle to the top of the stove (there was no way in hell he was getting up at the asscrack of dawn without coffee to help him), Bitty pokes his head on deck. It’s still dark, and they’d lowered their sail before Mug Up the night before. He can just barely make out two trainees in the bow, tinged red and green by the ship’s running lights. The water gurgles by smoothly - an undulating oil slick - and there are hulking shapes all around them that must be islands. To Starboard, the stars cut out high above the ship - they’re sailing past a mountain. Bitty feels small in comparison. Looking aft, he can see a trainee’s awed face at the helm - he was pretty sure someone, probably Shitty, had named the boy Whiskey - and Lardo’s tiny figure beside him. 

It’s not just Lardo, though - Jack is standing there too, bundled against the cold and glancing between the horizon, the compass, and the chart every few seconds. Occasionally he would whisper something to Lardo or Whiskey. He looks exhausted.

Bitty knew Jack had been on watch from midnight to four, and knew he’d stayed out after everyone else had gone to bed, in order to make sure everything was in order. His dad, the Georgia’s captain, had spent a lot of time on deck, but never that much time. Had Jack even slept at all?

As if on cue, the kettle in the Galley behind him starts to whistle. Shaking his head to himself, Bitty fills a mug with instant coffee and hot water. He doesn’t know what Jack takes, so he put some of their limited cream supply into his mug and grabs the sugar bowl. He thinks for a moment, and then fills a mug for Lardo, too, and grabs a plate of leftover brownies. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s ignoring Lardo, but also doesn’t want to single Jack out. He marches on deck. 

“Morning, y’all!” he whispers. He sets the mess of mugs and plate onto a cabintop. Lardo takes her coffee and shoves a brownie in her face, giving him a fist bump before shuffling back to Whiskey. She tells Whiskey something, through a mouthful of brownie, and he spins the wheel a few spokes.

Jack accepts his coffee too, and looks at Bitty, a question in his eyes. 

“You’re awfully dedicated to this ship,” Bitty says. Feeling incredibly bold, he grabs Jack’s hand and deposits a brownie into it. Jack’s fingers close around it. Bitty watches his face.

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” Jack says, watching right back.

Bitty nods, dropping his eyes to the deck. He starts gathering up the milk mug and sugar bowl, hoping the dark covers the pink on his cheeks. 

“Well, don’t work yourself too hard, ok?” he says, and turns to leave.

“Bittle -” Jack says. Bitty turns back around.

“It’s just- I have to take care of this ship,” Jack mutters. He gestures around them, at ship and stars and sea. “All of this, it’s on me. And the kids down there, too. I can’t mess that up.”

Bitty nods. Jack’s eyes are wide and earnest and glinting with concern and the masthead light. There was something about night watches that lead to moments being shockingly honest. Maybe that was what he loved most about working on a boat.

“You’re doing a great job, Jack,” Bitty says, and escapes to make breakfast.

_

 

Bitty is almost totally ignoring the piece of line resting on his fingers, focusing instead on the mess of people lounging on the warm wooden deck. The ship is winding it’s way up a straight under a brilliant sun, hoping eventually to see grizzlies, and everyone who wasn’t half asleep was either working or already sleeping. Nursey is chatting quietly but earnestly with one of the trainees, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, Dex and Ransom are methodically varnishing one of the rails, and Lardo and Shitty are passed out with the teenagers. Chowder is up in the rigging, encouraging a scared but determined Farmer. Bitty smiles to himself. Lazy, content afternoons are one of his favourite things aboard ship.

The line he’s holding suddenly tugs sharply, and he lets out the kind of little squeak that always embarrassed him but he could never control. The line jumps around, the place where it meets the water carving big circles and the trolling reel creaking where it was clamped onto the rail. Holster, fishing beside him, crows to the rest of the ship.

“Reel it in, Bits! You got a big one!”

Kids from all over the boat jump up and run over - most of them hadn’t ever seen anyone catch a fish before. Bitty hauls on the crank with all his might. The line jerks, and tautens, and he heaves, Holster yelling beside him, Ransom running up to join in. He keeps turning, but his arms are already tired and there seems to be more and more pressure working against him, until the crank is basically standing still and he’s gasping for breath.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a hard body pressed against him and calloused hands on top of his, and the crank was moving again. They turn together. Tango, somewhere behind him, was asking Holster questions, and Holster was answering in the same excited voice as he was using to encourage Bitty. Bitty knows it’s Jack beside him, and he knows that that body, tall and strong and being thrown into every turn with 100% dedication, is not helping him catch his breath. Jack was hopelessly hot, and he was _pressed right up against him_.

They just keep turning, he and Jack beside him, until even Jack is gasping for air. Two hundred feet is a _long_ line. 

And then, finally, the fish breaks water, jerking and splashing. Holster catches it in a net, and offers a belaying pin to whichever trainee wants to kill it. Everyone around him was cheering. Bitty looks up at Jack, and grins. They’re both very fit, but still very out of breath. Jack holds out his fist, grinning back, and Bitty bumps it. 

“You do those?” he asks.

“Well,” Jack says. “You earned it.”

_ 

 

Nursey shivers, and Bitty pauses in rubbing his back. 

“You ready to go inside?” he murmurs. 

Nursey, body slumped over the rail, clutching at a line with his good arm, shakes his head. One of the trainees had turned around too fast and whacked him with an oar earlier that day, and he’d been dizzy and sore ever since. Ransom had said it was a concussion, and that he might have broken his arm. He’d sent him belowdecks to sleep. They were speeding towards Prince Rupert faster than they had planned to get Nursey to a hospital, but there wasn’t much they could do for him until they got there. He’d woken up in the middle of the night and stumbled on deck to puke, and Dex, who slept right beside him, noticed. Why he’d come to get Bitty and not Ransom, their _actual first aid officer_ , Bitty couldn’t imagine, but he was still going to be there for his boys.

“Take your time,” Bitty says.

Bitty watches as Dex’s wild red hair appears in one of the hatches, and his body follows. He’s clutching Nursey’s mug, filled with water, and stops beside them, unsure. Bitty smiles at him encouragingly. Nursey had stopped retching a couple of minutes ago.

Dex kneels down beside Nursey. His face is the softest Bitty’s ever seen it, but his eyes are burning. He puts a hand on his shoulder, and Nursey looks blearily up. He lights up when he sees Dex. Bitty feels like he’s intruding on something private.

“Hey,” Dex murmurs, and offers him the mug. Nursey takes it, reaching awkwardly across himself to do so with his good arm. He takes a careful sip. There’s grey underneath his dark skin - it’s more sallow than Bitty’s ever seen it. As Bitty watches, Dex accidentally bumps against Nursey’s bad arm, and Nursey hisses. The boat didn’t really have much in the way of strong painkillers, and Nursey clearly needed some. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion, but his jaw was set with pain.

“Oh my God, Nurse, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Nursey’s voice doesn’t sound great, either. He takes another sip of water, Dex watching anxiously. Bitty looks up, and sees Ransom coming down the deck towards them. Maybe Dex had woken him up after all.

Ransom checks Nursey’s arm, gives him a few more painkillers and some Gravol, and eventually he and Dex get him back into bed. Bitty, yawning, makes his way into the aft cabin. He heads for his own bunk.

“Hey, Bittle?” 

Jack’s voice, low and concerned. Bitty turns around.

“Is Nurse alright?”

“Not really,” Bitty replies. “But Dex was looking after him. He’ll be ok.”

“Good.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then “Good night, Bitty.”

Bitty smiles. “Night, Jack.”

Watching his friends suffer definitely isn’t something he enjoys, but the way they look after each other is one of his favourite parts about this boat.

 

_ 

 

Bitty stands up and stretches, every movement crinkling in his layer of rain gear. He can’t feel his toes, and almost pitches onto his face as the ship rolls.

“Time for bed?” Jack asks, still sitting.

Bitty nods. His watch had finally, _finally_ beeped four a.m., and that meant he could get off of this freezing, godforsaken deck and crawl into bed. He’d been shivering more and more in the past hour, and the gentle chirps Jack had interrupted himself with had gone from incredulous to actually concerned as they talked. He loves Derek Nurse, and had readily agreed that there’d be no way should stand night watch in his condition, but it was fucking cold, and he was fucking done. On the deck of a ship there was no escaping the rain - it seeped into everything - and the wind sliced right through raincoats and sweaters alike. Still, he’d been talking to Jack for almost two hours, letting Holster deal with actually running the ship. Deep, personal conversations might be his favourite part of working on a boat.

“Thanks for keepin’ us company,” Bitty tells Jack, and turns to go inside. Holster has to wait for Ransom to relieve him, but he sure as hell doesn’t.

“Thank you, Bits,” Holster whispers as Bitty walks past. 

“Anytime.”

Bitty stumbles into the relative shelter of the aft cabin. His feet felt giant, useless hunks at the end of his legs, and he almost falls a second time. He had started shaking steadily in the last few minutes of his watch, and he wasn’t looking forward to getting out of his soaked clothes.

He hears thumping behind him, and turns around. Jack’s legs, and then the rest of him, were coming down the ladder. Great - now he’d have to change in the tiny crew head, rather than out in the open.

“Hey,” Jack whispers.

“Hey.”

“Um. Put dry clothes on, ok?”

Bitty nods, and then realizes Jack probably can't see him. The aft cabin light glowed a dim red, bright enough to come down the ladder without dying but not really bright enough to do anything else.

“Captain Zimmermann, do you think I don’t know how to take care of myself?” He shivers, hard, as he said this, so it’s not really as effective as it could have been. His teeth would be chattering if he let them. 

He goes to unzip his jacket, but his hands are so numb he can't manage the zipper, and making the effort stings. He hisses, and Jack looks up. The planes of Jack's face are outlined red.

“I know you can,” Jack says, and Bitty doesn't doubt it. “But I can help?”

Bitty looks down. “Thank you.”

Jack unzips his own jacket and pulls it off, arm by arm, and for a minute Bitty wonders if he spoke too quietly for Jack to hear. Jack hangs the jacket up, and then closes the difference between them in two purposeful strides. He holds his hand out, and Bitty meets his eyes, confused, before placing his own frozen hands into Jack's outstretched one.

Jack's calloused hands rub over Bitty’s smaller ones, and feeling returns, too fast and shocking, so that he can feel every scrape of Jack's fingers down each of his. His hands and feet feel too big, and his face is burning, both from the change in temperature and Jack’s proximity. He can’t stop shivering.

“Wow, Bitty,” Jack whispers. “I didn’t think you were actually that cold.” Bitty huffs at him. Jack unzips Bitty’s raincoat for him, and Bitty shrugs it off, dumping it on the table. He’ll deal with it later. 

“You’re sweater’s soaked,” Jack whispers. “No wonder you were frozen.” He unzips that, as well, and Bitty obediently pulls his arms out. The cold air on his clammy skin is shocking.

Jack tugs the arms of his own fleece, magically dry, over his hands, and rubs them up and down Bitty’s arms, chafing some warmth into them. He moves Bitty over to a bench and sits him down, and then kneels down in front of him. He yanks at one of Bitty’s boots. Bitty gasps. His feet are still numb, and it _hurts_.

“Sorry.”

“‘S ok.”

Jack goes slower, and gets the boots off. Bitty crosses his arms and sticks his hands into his armpits. He’s too cold to argue, even as Jack goes to his rain pants and yanks those down, almost taking his jeans with them. He’s still shivering. 

“Where do you keep your dry clothes?” Jack whispers. 

“That was my last sweater.” Bitty can’t help it, he pouts a little. 

Before he can say anything, Jack leaps up and disappears into his cabin. He comes back with one of his flannels, and hands it to Bitty. Bitty numbly accepts it. It’s an old one, thick and soft and blissfully dry. He goes to tug it over his head.

“Wait,” Jack says. “Shirt, too. Or you’ll never get warm.” Bitty’s too cold to argue.

Jesus _Christ_. He thought that the warmish air of the aft cabin on his bare arms was bad. His entire upper half feels raw and exposed and tingly, and Jack’s staring determinedly at his face, which he’s sure is on fire. He leans over, trying desperately to find the bottom of the flannel so he can put it on. It takes far longer than it should.

By the time he gets it on, he’s shaking like a leaf. It’s almost comically large on him, but it smells like Jack, and it’s warm. Jack reaches out and starts rubbing up and down his arms and back, and it helps, but it still feel’s like he’s never been this cold in his life. His teeth start to chatter.

“God, Bits,” Jack whispers, and pulls him into a hug.

Suddenly, Jack is everywhere. There are huge, strong arms rubbing up and down his back, leaving a trail of warmth behind. All he can feel is Jack’s flannel on his body and Jack’s fleece on his face, and it’s incredible. He smells like wood and pine tar and ocean, and it shouldn’t be a soft hug, not with both of them exhausted and Jack trying to chafe warmth back into him, but somehow it is. It takes a few minutes, but finally he’s warm enough to relax.

“What about socks? Do you have a dry pair of those?”

Jack basically whispers this in his ear. It should not feel as intimate as it does.

“Mmhmm.”

“And pants?”

“ _Yes_. I’m not that bad at takin’ care of myself.”  
“Sorry.”

Jack lets go of Bitty, and he’s cold again, but it’s not as bad as before. 

“Take everything wet off and rub down with a towel, ok?” Jack tells him, and Bitty’s face is on fire. He nods. Hopefully the red light will mask it.

Still, as climbs into his sleeping bag, dry and with the smell of his captain all around him, he thinks that he might finally feel warm. 

_ 

 

It’s the last night, and they’re anchored just outside of Prince Rupert. They boated Nursey in safely, and he’s in the hospital right now - All the trainees are below, following Ransom and Holster through some kind of game that involves lots of yelling and spontaneous song. Bitty escapes on deck. The sun was setting, just crowning one of the islands, and both sea and sky were a brilliant rusty orange. A seagull swooped by.

Jack is sitting on a cabintop, watching the landscape in front of him. Bitty hesitates a moment, and then sits down beside him. Jack looks up. 

Jack’s eyes are blue, and massive, and every time Bitty sees them he falls a little more in love with them, so he tries not to look to much, but they’re softer now than he’s ever seen them. He knew from the beginning that trying not to fall for him was a lost cause. He looks out over the oil-slick water, because that, at least, is safe.

“It was kinda loud down th-” he goes to say, but he turns part way through and Jack’s even closer than he was before and they’re leaning in slowly and all he can see is _eyes_ , and _lips_ , and then Jack’s mouth is on his and it tastes safe and inevitable, like breathing. Like the ocean.

Jack’s hand cups the back of his neck. He loves being on the boat, but he thinks, finally, that this part of it beats all others.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at smhteammanager.tumblr.com if you want to come say hi!


End file.
